I shot him a scowl. “I am a prince of Al Nuzem. It is they who should learn my tongue, not the other way around.”
To my shock and horror, Simon gave me a bland expression, unimpressed by my title. “Right now, you’re a tribute of the northern clan. And the only person you’re hurting by refusing to learn is yourself. If you want to jump your barbarian, you need to be able to communicate with him. He won’t touch you otherwise.”
I growled, clenching my hands into tight fists. “Why should he not learn my language? Why must it be on me?”
Simon shrugged but didn’t respond. Instead, he leaned against his barbarian, who moved closer behind him so Simon could lean against his legs. The big barbarian ran his fingers through Simon’s soft hair, speaking low to him until Simon was practically melted against him in bliss.
I’d always hated not being the center of attention. It bothered me. So I did what I always did when I wasn’t getting what I wanted. I acted like a brat.
“Does your barbarian know of our time together? Would he be jealous to know I made you scream?”
The barbarian might not understand me, but he heard the suggestive tone and whipped his head around, glaring at me. I would be worried if I wasn’t so sure my barbarian would step in to protect me.
“You’re asking for trouble,” Simon commented dryly, reaching up to pull his barbarian down for a quick kiss before shooting me a look filled with malicious intent. “Besides, he has no reason to be jealous. Only one of you had to pay me to fuck, and only one of you made me come so hard I passed out. I’ll give you a hint: the second one wasn’t you.”
My mouth fell open in shock. “You said—I thought—” I hesitated, frowning at him. “He made you pass out? Truly?”
Simon barked out a laugh and nodded. “I’ve been saying since the first time that these barbarians have magic dicks. Waituntil you’ve been with one yourself. Then you’ll know what I mean.”
“Do they have magic asses as well? Because no one will be fucking me.”
My parents might one day forgive me if they caught me fooling around with another male, though I was always careful to not let them find out, but I didn’t think they’d ever forgive me if I was the one being fucked. No matter how much I wanted it.
Eleven
UTTIN
Atent was set up for the prince to have his privacy, though I doubted he would have minded staying with me. I’d woken up most mornings to him cuddled against me. He hadn’t seemed to mind the arrangement before. I was concerned about him running off without me there to watch over him, but Simon told me he’d explained the dangers and that we promised to bring him home, and the prince agreed to stay put and wait out the storm for his own safety.
After setting the prince up and leaving him with Simon to talk, I joined the rest of the clan in getting the village ready for the storm. Tents needed to be adjusted to allow for fires inside, extra wood needed to be cut to feed the fires, and a shelter needed to be erected for the stallions to wait out the storm. It was late when I finally returned to my tent, and the snow had already begun. The wind whipped sharply around my head, and my fingers had long since frozen in the cold. But the clan was prepared, and the hunters had returned with as much game as they were able to bring back before the storm. We were as ready as we could be.
Someone had prepared the fire in my tent, and it only took a moment for me to light it. Afterward, I stripped my clothes and used the jug of water we were each given to splash my face. I was putting on my warmest clothes for the night when someone made a disgruntled sound outside my tent. I had tied the flap closed to prevent the wind from entering, and they evidently hadn’t been expecting it. Frowning, I pulled it open and looked out, surprised to find the prince bundled in furs and blankets glaring at me.
He marched past me, his words flying from his mouth so fast, it was a wonder his tongue didn’t knot. It was only when he spun around that he noticed my state of undress. His eyes lit up and his grin turned wicked, but I shook my head, grabbing my legwear to dress.
He was standing in front of me in an instant, snatching the legwear in an attempt to pull it out of my hands. It became a wrestling match for the material, and I was fighting laughter by the time he gave up. He said something in harsh tones, glaring up at me, then his expression shifted to hurt and embarrassment, and guilt ate at me for causing him distress.
Holding the legwear in front of me to prevent him from getting any funny ideas, I stepped closer and ran my knuckles down his cheek, smirking at the little pout on his lips.
“You are very beautiful, tavi. But you do not understand our ways. I do not wish for you to misunderstand me.”
Like I thought he might, he used the proximity to reach for my legwear again, but I stepped out of range and focused on dressing instead of placating him. He was back to scowling when I was done, and he sat down on my bed in a huff, his arms crossed petulantly. It was cute, and I had to concentrate on keeping my smile off my face to not encourage his behavior.
“Are you hungry?”
He gave me that look he’d given me since he first arrived whenever I spoke to him in my language. That irritated glower that said he wasn’t pleased I was trying to teach him to speak with me. Godr had said something about how the clan should be learning the common tongue like the tributes learned ours to better understand them. I thought it wouldn’t apply to me because I already spoke the common tongue better than most of my brothers, but maybe if I put in the effort to learn his tongue, he would as well.
Assuming he hadn’t eaten, I ducked out of my tent and into his to grab the basket left on his table. When I came back, he was bundled as deeply as he could get in the furs and blankets, frowning at the fire. I felt guilt for his suffering—the cold didn’t suit him—and I didn’t make him move from his spot when I offered him some of the dried meat and bread from his stash. It would be more difficult for Yamileth and Patrick to feed the clan if the weather got too bad, so we had the basics with us to feed ourselves if necessary.
Lifting the bowl, I said the word and gave him a pointed look. He groaned, flopping back, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at his dramatics. Grabbing his wrist, I pulled him into a seated position again, pointing at him, then the bowl in hopes to get him to say the word in his language. It took a few tries before he started snarking at me, but I heard the word he said while gesturing to the bowl and did my best to mimic it.
He sat up straighter when he realized what I was doing. He pointed at it and said a word, which I repeated, then said it in my own language and raised my eyebrows expectantly. With a petulant huff, he growled at me the word in my tongue, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. He had no reason to be embarrassed; his language was similar enough to ours that the words didn’t sound as stilted as they normally did with theother tributes. And we’d each be learning together, so if I said something wrong, he would see it was fine.
He took easier to the lessons when we were learning together. He repeated words, then said his own, until I pointed to my chest and said my name.
“Uttin.”
A smirk tugged at his lips and I could tell he was enjoying himself when he said something in response. In punishment, I pointed at him and repeated that same word. He cackled, rocking a little in his spot across from me. Shaking his head, he pointed at his chest and said a long sentence. I gave him a flat look, and he grinned at me.
